Sanna's Bag

“I never seem to have what I need when I need it. I’m going to make a belt-bag that’s bigger on the inside than on the outside, and just carry everything with me.”

Saturday, February 05, 2011

Poor Phil

I understand the groundhog was frozen in, couldn't see his shadow, couldn't even get out of the hole.  So, winter should be on the way out for you folks on the East coast.  .  This whole legend evloved from a bit of British folk wisdown that said that if the hedgehog could see his shadow on the 2nd of February, then they were due for six more weeks of winter.  Hedgehog / groundhog - what's the difference, right?  So Phil and his ilk get rousted out of their hibernation on Feb 2nd to have a look around.

Out here, on the left coast, we do things a bit differently.  We use a real hedgehog.  BUT, since hedgehogs are not indigeneous to the Pacific Northwest, we go up to the zoo and drag an African spiney hedgehog out of HIS nice warm burrow and hold him up to the thin and bitter light of February, and right around the 2nd we usually have a bit of a break, so there usually is enough sun to cast a shadow, and we caulk our galoshes in preparation for another six weeks or so of unremitting rain.  No, we don't have snow or ice down here in the valley, though the Eastern half of the state is freeze dried hard as a brick.  But down here in the valley we have rain and 40degrees.  Per omnia, saecula, saeculorum.

So, for a bit of frivolity, let's import a facebook silliness to blogdom.  I want you to leave a post telling how you met me, but I want you to lie.  If you have posted for me on facebook and want to repeat or re-enter the lists with another lie, please do.  And, if you would like, I will go to your blog and do the same.  With all the active imaginations in the area, this turns out to be a lot of fun!

5 Comments:

  • At 7:35 AM , Blogger Amy Lane said...

    Well, I was on vacation with my family one day, and I had this dream, in which this goddess with a bottomless bag stuffed with yarn kept trying to give me Lindor balls. After a little bit of internet surfing, to see who this goddess in my dream was, I found Roxie's blog, and the rest is history!

     
  • At 8:38 AM , Blogger sophanne said...

    I can't believe you don't remember...

    We met on an airplane. Not in the seats of an airplane, but actually as we were skywalking on biplanes. I liked your scarf and you gave it to me and while I tried to catch it I nearly had a fatal fall. Fortunatley you had not let go of the other end and pulled me to safety on your own plane. I still have that scarf.

     
  • At 11:48 AM , Blogger Heide said...

    You stole my pole at the club! It was supposed to be my set, but there you went, prancing in with your long, beguiling legs and just wrapped them right around my brass money maker. Needless to say, with those legs, your flexibility plus f...ew creative moves never seen before this side of the equator the entire club was at your beck and call. Knowing that I could never hold a candle to your prowress I gave up exotic dancing altogether to pursue a career as a collector of Kopi Luwak coffee beans. Unfortunately, a severe allergy to lemurs ended that endeavor. Left in despair I ended up in a mental institution where I was taught the craft of knitting. Years later I started a knitting blog and lo and behold, I "bumped" into you once again, via your knitting blog. It seems that you too gave up pole dancing. We've been steadfast friends ever since. You're the tall, exotic one and I'm the short, side kick. Isn't life interesting?

     
  • At 3:02 PM , Anonymous Benita said...

    It's really a rather odd little story - about how I met Roxie. You see, I was hunting through the undergrowth on the mountainside in Mongolia for a little lost lamb that I had purchased and was wanting to bring home. I kept hearing this bleating sound, but the harder I looked for it the more evasive it seemed to get. So I sat down on a rock and bided my time.

    Sure enough, that little bleating sound started to come toward me. I sat very still, but I had my trusty rope ready to catch my little lost lamb.

    As the sound came closer, I wandered if my little lost lamb had caught a cold while it was out lost - it is rather cold on the side of a mountain in Mongolia, so I put my rope away and decided to be gentle.

    Finally, the bleating sound was right beside me, on the other side of a bush. So, I carefully parted the branches of the bush and looked through. But it wasn't a lamb at all, but a very happy-looking lady, sitting on a rock and that bleating noise I had heard was her singing! At least I think it was singing.

    So I walked around the bush and sat down next to her and asked her what her name was. "Roxie," she answered.

    "And what are you doing here?"

    "I'm singing!"

    Then it hit me. "Did you, by any chance, drink some of that fermented yak milk?"

    "Yes! And it was so lovely!"

    Then Roxie hiccupped and my little lamb walked up and began to snuggle down next to her. So I gathered them both up and brought them back to the US with me. Roxie is still a happy person, and her singing still sounds like bleating, but she kept my lamb and named him Bobbie. I understand Bobbie has a sheepy friend living there with him now, too.

     
  • At 7:07 AM , Blogger KnitTech said...

    Roxie, I can't believe you're asking me to tell this story after we swore to take it to our graves!

    We were at college - good 'ole Mystic U - and the boys of Cum of Sum Yung Guy was holding a masquerade bash. You was suppose to "hook up" with someone, then at mid-night the masks would be removed. You get the idea...

    Anyway, me and this tall, hot looking cowboy hit it off, right off the bat. End up making out for an hour or two. Imagine my surprise when midnight comes and it's Roxie, instead of a guy!

    It's funny now, but at the time... it was hysterical!

     

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